


Take It All Back

by EchoResonance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), coran gives the best encouragement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoResonance/pseuds/EchoResonance
Summary: “Blindly answering distress signals hasn’t worked out for us so far,” Keith said, crossing his arms over his chest.“Oh sure,” scoffed Lance. “Wait til the rest of the universe finds out the red paladin is a giant scaredy-cat top-of-the class drop-out who won’t even do his duty as a pal--”“Would you shut up already?” Keith all but snarled. “Fine, whatever, we’ll do it your way. Don’t complain if we end up getting blasted out of the sky by the enemy!”“If you’re the one that gets blasted, I’ll weep tears of joy,” Lance muttered.~In which Lance is not so comfortable with the whole not-so-straight thing, his method of dealing with it is terrible, and he's not the only one to pay for it





	1. Chapter 1

“Nice going, Dropout,” Lance jeered when he spotted Keith in the control room. “A first year could’ve dodged those blasts.”

“What’s your excuse then?” Keith snapped. “Blue hasn’t exactly come out of any battles unscathed.”

Lance scowled.

“If you did your _job_ ,” he growled, “we wouldn’t be getting shot at in the first place! But you can’t even take out the lead guns right, can you?”

“Paladins, that’s enough,” Allura said sternly, but they paid her no attention.

Keith bristled, arms falling away from his chest as he stalked closer to Lance. His dark eyes blazed, and like always there was a moment where Lance regretted provoking him, sure he was about to actually get his ass kicked this time. However, like always, Keith just stopped in front of him, presence looming despite the couple of inches that Lance had on him, and leaned in until their noses were inches apart and Lance had stopped breathing altogether.

“I _did_ my job,” Keith seethed. “You’re the one that broke formation for an obvious decoy.”

Only just refraining from flinching, Lance threw back his shoulders and straightened his back, forcing Keith to at least have to look up slightly to meet his gaze.

“I didn’t _break_ anything, that was my target!” he said, fighting the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Like hell it was,” Keith retorted.

“Look, just because you suck doesn’t mean you have to project all your insecurities on me, _Dropout_ ,” Lance said.

“Quit _calling_ me that!” Keith snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” Lance said, feeling a vindictive satisfaction at the spark in Keith’s eyes. “Does it bug you that I got your spot after you washed out of the Garrison? Really goes to show who’s actually the better pilot, doesn’t it?”

The twitch in Keith’s jaw and the clenching of his fists at his side didn’t look promising, but Lance kept going. Once he opened his mouth, he had a lot of trouble figuring out when to close it again. It was a problem he knew he had, but he never really addressed it at a suitable time. He knew how to get under Keith’s skin—It had come to him naturally—and he got a thrill out of doing it every chance he got.

“What is it, commitment issues?” Lance probed. “Gave up at the Garrison just to go live like a damn hermit. The so-called prodigy, just another _dropout_.”

“Lance, that’s enough,” Allura said, tone like ice. Lance hesitated and glanced over at her.

She looked decided unamused, unimpressed, and about two point seven seconds away from grabbing him by the ear again just to make him shut up. She raised a silver eyebrow at him when their eyes met and, instantly contrite, he made to step away from Keith. Maybe he’d gone a bit too far. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“No, let him finish,” Keith said.

A chill ran through Lance’s spine.

“Let him finish,” Keith repeated, and Lance looked around.

Lance had seen Keith angry. He’d heard him shout, whisper, pant, and everything in between. Sharing dozens of near-death experiences made Lance privy to what he thought was every possibly range of emotion and reaction Keith was capable of. But this was not a Keith that he was familiar with. This Keith had cold, uncaring eyes and an expression so empty it belonged on a corpse. Utterly void of emotion.

Lance opened his mouth. Floundered for something clever to say. Closed it.

“What, nothing?” Keith mocked.

He was still standing very close. Lance swore he could feel a chill emanating from him and fought the urge to step back, knowing it would make him look weak. Knowing it would be like admitting he’d messed up.

“Maybe you actually forgot,” Keith growled. “But I didn’t _drop out_. I was _expelled_. I didn’t get any choice in the matter. I went around asking questions that my superiors didn’t like, and they gave me the boot.”

The humming of the castle ship seemed to vibrate through the soles of Lance’s shoes and shake his whole frame. If he opened his mouth now he feared he might bite off his own tongue, and he can’t help a nasty little voice in the back of his head that wonders if that would really be such a bad thing. He felt about two inches tall with that cold, hard stare boring into him.

“Nothing you wanna say?” Keith challenged, and Lance wanted to argue.

 _It was just supposed to be a joke_ , he wanted to say.

 _It was supposed to be banter, like everything else,_ he wanted to say.

 _I didn’t_ mean _it, not like that,_ he wanted to say.

 _I would never want to actually hurt you_ , he wanted to say.

He said nothing.

“First time for everything,” Keith snorted. He stepped back and turned to Allura. “I’m gonna go check on Red, Princess. I only came by because I needed to change.”

“Very well,” Allura murmured.

Keith didn’t so much as glance at Lance as he stalked out of the room. The doors hadn’t even slid shut behind him before shame began to swell in Lance’s chest, rising to block his throat and sinking like a stone in his belly. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself and wallow for a while, demand of empty air why he was such an idiot, why he couldn’t just _get a handle on himself_. However, he would only have that luxury in the privacy of his own room.

“I already know what you’re going to say, and I’m gonna stop you right there,” Lance said as he turned to the princess.

“Lance, the way you behave towards Keith is absolutely unacceptable,” she said anyway. “I understand that you two aren’t the best of friends or anything of the like, but I expect the paladins of Voltron to show a certain amount of respect to each other at the very least, and this—”

“You’re right,” Lance interrupted. Allura blinked. “I was a jerk, I know. It’s just—he just makes me so _mad_ , I can’t think straight, and I—ugh, I know I messed up. I keep messing up. I’m sorry.”

“Lance,” Allura said, voice losing its harsh edge. “I don’t know what it is about Keith that bothers you so much, but surely you can talk to him about it?”

Lance snorted derisively and turned away from the tube.

“Definitely not,” he said. “There’s no way I’m having some deep heart-to-heart with Mullet.”

“I’m not suggesting you lay yourself open for him,” Allura sighed. “Just talk, try to reach some kind of mutual understanding.”

“I’m telling you I can’t,” Lance grumbled. There was no way his pride could take it. Confessing _why_ Keith set his teeth on edge without ever even trying would utterly ruin him. Once he said the words, there would be no taking them back.

“I’m telling you that you must,” Allura retorted, firing up again. “Unless you two can overcome whatever differences keep causing these spats, there will be more instances like this one, and Keith may not survive the next.”

The icy hand that grasped his insides at her words made Lance’s response more honest than he’d intended, but somehow kept the important part quiet. He threw his hands into the air, volume escalating until it was nearly a shriek.

“How exactly am I supposed to tell his stupid smug face that I’m jealous?!”

Heat flooded Lance’s face when he realized what he’d said, and the look of absolute amazement on Allura’s face didn’t help. He folded his arms tightly over his chest and glared at the floor.

“All I ever heard at the Garrison was _Keith this_ and _Keith that_. Even after they booted him it was _you’re only here because he washed out, you’re not fighter pilot caliber, you’re just a filler_ , blah blah blah.”

Allura and Coran glanced at each other.

“That’s not his fault, Lance.”

The room’s occupants jumped and turned toward the door. Nobody had heard them enter, but they stood near the doorway with their arms folded, scowling at Lance in disbelief.

“You know it’s not,” they reprimanded. “It’s not fair to take out what other people did or said on him.”

“Shut up, I know that,” Lance snapped, then flinched at his own tone. He groaned and yanked his helmet off to rake a hand through his hair. “Sorry, sorry, god I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agreed. “Look man, if you just talked to him about that—”

“ _How_?” Lance demanded. “Hey man, look, I know we never actually talked and you couldn’t care one way or the other, but the reason I hate you is actually because you’re too fucking good at everything and everyone else made me feel like shit because I wasn’t! Sure, he won’t think I’m an even bigger ass after that.”

Pidge threw their hands into the air.

“Well you have to try something!” they snapped. “The princess is right; if you two keep acting like kids instead just _talking_ , sooner or later someone’s gonna get hurt and the pods aren’t gonna be able to keep up with the damage control!”

“Why do _I_ have to start it?” Lance demanded. “He’s not any better!”

“He’s only mean to you because you’re always a dick,” Pidge said. “If you haven’t noticed, he’s fine with me and Hunk and Shiro; every time he even tries to reach out to you, you snap like a rabid Chihuahua!”

Lance blinked.

“Chihuahua?” he repeated. “Why a Chihuahua?”

“Annoying and loud and snappish for no reason,” Pidge said. “My point is, the nicest thing you ever said to him was when you were near-comatose, and the nicest thing aside from that was _I don’t hate you right now_. Why would he _want_ to be nice when you always act like that?”

Lance ducked his head.

“I’m not saying he’s innocent,” Pidge continued. “He rises to your bait too easily. But you started this whole rivalry bullshit.”

Lance was saved from having to answer by the timely arrival of Hunk and Shiro, who burst through the doorway at a dead sprint.

“How’s Keith?” Shiro demanded, going straight to the princess. “Where is he?”

Allura touched his shoulder.

“He’s fine,” she assured him. “Just a little banged up, that’s all. I believe he’s gone to look at the damages on his lion already.”

The way Shiro slumped with relief hit Lance like a punch in the gut. He barely noticed the frown Hunk sent his way before his shoulders curled inward and he slipped silently out of the control room, certain that nobody would miss him.

Why was he such a disaster of a human being? If he could just shut his mouth for ten seconds on occasion, maybe say something that wasn’t a pointed barb, things would be different. Keith wouldn’t hate him. He wouldn’t have _made_ Keith hate him, over and over again. If he could just step off, have a normal conversation, could they _maybe_ have become friends?

Then, wasn’t that the real kick in the head? He didn’t want to be friends. Being friends meant accepting some things and releasing others, sharing what fell into neither category. Being friends would have put him in a vulnerable spot with someone he didn’t think he could stand to be vulnerable around. It was easier to shove him away, deal with the fallout as long as he had to.

“Lance?”

Lance jumped, realizing that he’d stopped outside his room and was just standing out in the corridor like the clueless moron he was. He whipped around, ready to tell Shiro he was fine or tell Hunk he just needed some time alone, but instead came face-to-face with a concerned-looking mustache.

“Coran,” Lance wheezed, hand clutching the front of his shirt. “You startled me, man.”

“Apologies,” the Altean said. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” Lance said with a shake of his head. “Did you need something?”

“I thought maybe we could talk,” Coran offered.

Lance’s lips twitched feebly. He chose to answer honestly.

“I don’t know, Coran,” he sighed. “I’m not really feeling up to a lecture.”

The other man straightened up and held his hands in the air in front of him. There was a soft gleam in his eyes that Lance couldn’t help but smile at.

“No lectures, then,” Coran vowed with the utmost solemnity. Then, “May I come in?”

With a half-hearted shrug, Lance turned and input his key code. The door slipped open with the faintest _shh_ and admitted both of them inside. The lights came on automatically and Lance paused for a moment, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted. Apparently not having the same problem, Coran flounced into the room and claimed the chair sitting at the desk against the far wall. He turned it around so that he could face Lance as the boy moved to sit on the edge of his bed, kicking off his shoes as he went.

“So,” Coran began. “I know I promised no lectures, and I fully intend to make good on that. But I do think we should talk about your feelings toward Keith.”

The sound that left Lance could not, in any way shape or form, be considered _dignified_. Not even he knew how to pass off a stunned squeak in a suave or gentlemanly way, particularly when paired with the way his back went ramrod straight.

“Wh-what?” Lance croaked.

Either oblivious to his discomfort or kindly choosing to overlook it, Coran sighed heavily enough to ruffle his mustache. His eyes crinkled at the corners, whether in amusement or sympathy Lance couldn’t say, and he didn’t know which he would prefer.

“Clearly you’re harboring a lot of resentment for your fellow paladin,” Coran said. “And I thought that maybe if you could just talk through some of these feelings you have, it could help. Only if you want to, of course.”

Lance blinked. Some of the tension left his shoulders, and a nervous laugh escaped him. Patience bled from Coran as Lance scratched the back of his neck and tried to collect himself enough to say something at least somewhat intelligent.

“I don’t...I don’t really know what to say,” he confessed.

He’d ranted to Hunk any number of times about how much Keith pissed him off, but somehow he didn’t think that was the sort of talking that Coran meant.

“Alright, what if I just ask you questions, and you answer?” the man suggested.

“What, like therapy?” Lance couldn’t help a chuckle.

“If you’d like to call it that,” Coran said.

“Sure,” Lance said, leaning back on his hands. “Why not?”

“Well, he went to that place, the Garrison, with you and Pidge and Hunk, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you in the same class?”

“Same age group,” Lance said, tone growing a little curt. “I was a cargo pilot, though. He was a fighter pilot. Like I applied to be.”

“As I understand it, he was top of his class, wasn’t he?” Coran wondered.

“Yes,” Lance bit out.

“So, when he was expelled, you took his place your...fighter pilot class?”

Lance hesitated. He knew the answer he wanted to give. It was the answer he’d given a dozen times, delivered with his shoulders thrown back and his chest puffed out. It was the answer he loved to give girls in the next town over when he snuck out. It also wasn’t the honest one. And Lance wanted to be honest with Coran.

“No,” he said, the word sour on his tongue. “If I’d taken his place, I would’ve been top of the class once I got in. My test scores were fine—great, even—but in application I was the worst. I don’t think I ever succeeded in a mission in the simulator.”

“I see…” Coran hummed thoughtfully.

“And the worst part was I didn’t even know he’d been booted when I saw that I was in. I thought I made it in with him, or maybe even beat him. When I walked into class the first day and Professor Iverson made a huge speech about how I was lucky to even be there, I…”

The blankets wrinkled in Lance’s fists as his fingers tightened and his jaw clenched. It was a rough day when your primary instructor openly declared just how much you _didn’t_ deserve to be in his class. As clear as it had been from Day One that Iverson and Lance were never going to see eye-to-eye, though, Lance still did his best to impress the man who was notoriously impossible to impress. And when things went wrong, as they always did, Lance took the verbal berating in silence, head hanging low, and slunk to the back of the class with his tail between his legs afterwards.

“That must have been quite hard on you,” Coran acknowledged. “So you directed that frustration towards Keith, then?”

“I guess,” Lance grumbled noncommittally.

“Had you ever spoken with him before?”

That brief interaction in the training room flashed through Lance’s mind.

“Not really, no,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level.

“But you knew who he was?”

“I…” kept tabs on his sim scores. Spent hours at a time trying to hunt him down in the Garrison. Watched him when he walked through the cafeteria, got his food, and left. Stayed up some nights wishing he could just talk to the guy and yet thinking of his smug demeanor crashing down when Lance beat his scores. “I saw him around.”

“Now that you’re away from the Garrison,” Coran continued, “don’t you think some of those feelings should have faded? You’re all equals out here.”

Lance snorted.

“Maybe if he didn’t keep rubbing how much better he is at everything in my face I’d believe you,” he said.

“Lance, I don’t think he’s rubbing anything in anybody’s face,” Coran said gently. “I think you may be letting your troubles from the Garrison alter the way you see him now.”

It took every ounce of self-control Lance possessed not to snap at Coran, but he managed it. He knew his grudge against Keith was irrational—Pidge had said as much already—but he couldn’t just make it go away because he knew that. Focusing on his self-imposed rivalry was the easiest way for Lance to handle his feelings; the inadequacies that threatened to bury him and the quieter, softer things he never wanted to dwell on.

“I hope I don’t sound presumptuous when I say this,” Coran said. “But it seems as though there’s more going on here than just jealousy, Lance. Something else you’re avoiding.”

Lance didn’t say _what would_ you _know,_ but it was a close call as his heart rate jumped and his breath caught.

“Nope,” he said, cursing the rise in his pitch. “Nuh-uh, you’re just imagining things Coran. One hundred percent just bitter inferiority complex over here, I have _no idea whatsoever_ what you’re talking about.”

 _Smooth, Lance_ , his inner voice mocked. _Very smooth and totally convincing._

The look that Coran gave him was all too understanding. Hoping it wasn’t too obvious, Lance scooted a little farther down his bed, as though this small bit of distance could possibly halt the Altean’s next words. His fingers clenched more firmly in the bed clothes beside his hips, trembling.

“Lance,” said Coran, far too brightly for the dim pit of despair Lance felt himself spiraling into. “Based on recent scans of you paladins, it seems that you’re just on the tail end of your human maturation cycles, and if they’re anything like Altean physiology than I promise that feeling...well, _attracted_ to people is perfectly norm—”

“I am _not_ attracted to _Keith_!”

It was a good thing the rooms were soundproofed. Coran actually jumped at the near-shriek that ripped itself from Lance, and the blue paladin seemed shocked at his own outburst. Heat seared his cheeks and he hastily looked at the wall opposite the Altean, trying furiously to blink away the stinging in his eyes.

“I understand if you’re hesitant about those sorts of relationships, what with how young you are,” Coran said cautiously. “And how those sorts of things may reflect on Voltron is certainly unnerving, but believe me, Lance, there is nothing shameful about having feelings for a fellow paladin.”

Lance grit his teeth. If he gripped his bedclothes any tighter, they would probably tear.

“I suspect it’s confusing, what with your rivalry,” Coran continued. “But I assure you it’s not wrong to—”

“Yes it _is_!” Lance burst, still glaring daggers at the wall. “I don’t know what it was like on Altea, but on Earth, we—It’s not that _simple_ , we’re—”

_Stupid. Prejudiced. Based on a system of reproduction that only works under the assumption that people are straight, that people are cis, that—_

“Guys like girls,” he mumbled. “Girls like guys. That’s just—that’s just how it _is_. And, I mean, sometimes guys like guys and girls like girls, but that’s it. You—you have to pick; it’s just how it is. And I like _girls_.”

His broken whisper sounded far too much like a plea to his own ears.

 _I like girls_ had become his mantra, repeated in the showers when Keith was cleaning off the grime of the day in the next stall over and during training where physical contact was far too common. It became his bedtime story and his morning affirmations. And he did. He _did_ like girls, heck, he still harbored a not-so-subtle crush on Allura. And maybe that just made it harder.

“So Earth has an opposite-binary system?” Coran wondered. “Singular attraction to a lone type of this binary?”

Lance didn’t respond.

“What about those like Number Five?” Coran asked. “Pidge? What did they say they were?”

“Nonbinary,” Lance said automatically. “They’re nonbinary.”

“Right. Do they not pair up at all, then?”

Lance shrugged.

“Sometimes. I dunno, I haven’t asked them.”

“Tell me, Lance, who would they partner up with? Another nonbinary individual? Or do they default to women as well?”

A frown creased Lance’s brow and he finally looked over at Coran. The Altean bore a curious expression on his face, not unlike the one he wore when he found Lance alone on the star deck so very long ago. A deep ‘v’ wrinkled the space between his eyebrows, but his eyes twinkled as brightly as ever.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Whoever they prefer, I guess? Women aren’t, like, a default sexuality.”

“I see…” Coran hummed.

Suddenly he rolled to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head in exaggerated movements and then strode over and plopped down next to Lance. The blue paladin frowned, but Coran just bumped their shoulders together and then leaned back on his hands, casting his gaze to the ceiling.

“Back in my day, I was quite the dashing man, not unlike yourself,” Coran informed the light fixture above the bed. “Still am, you know, though not as springy. I could dance a mean Blurburry Swirl back then.”

In spite of himself, Lance titled his head.

“Blur...berry...swirl?” he echoed.

“ _Blurburry_ , but close enough,” Coran corrected. “Quite the popular dance at formal balls and such.”

In another setting, Lance wouldn’t have been able to let the joke pass. However, humor seemed something he was utterly incapable of at the moment—horrifying, a true testament to how messed up the conversation was. Lance’s frown deepened. Coran chuckled when he looked around and saw Lance’s lower lip jutting out. He lifted a hand to pat his shoulder.

“Anyway, I used to flaunt with a number of lovers; men, women, and others would throw themselves at my side at the balls. Ah, those were the days,” Coran recalled, fondness evident in his voice. “No one said a word. Except for maybe where we chose to express our feelings. Those alcoves in ballroom corners are _not_ as private as they seem in the moment, just so you know.”

This was accompanied by a slight cough and eyebrow wiggle that did little to put Lance in a humorous mood. Coran was describing a culture that Lance was not a part of, something that humans weren’t capable of; alien courtship wasn’t exactly anything that could make Lance feel more comfortable about this entire situation. If he’d been Altean, maybe it would’ve been okay, but he wasn’t. He was human, and humans weren’t...they didn’t… He pressed his lips together and shrugged away the hand on his shoulder, returning his glower to his lap and praying to the stars that he would not start crying.

A soft sigh came then, and Lance knew that if he looked around Coran would have gone back to a more serious and softer expression. An arm slid around Lance’s shoulders.

“These things, they do not define you,” the Altean murmured. “Your human cultural customs may have had these strange restrictions, but even if people followed these with little to no deviation, I feel I must point out that you are not on Earth. And as scary as it is, there may not be a time when you can return there. Life is a precious, precious thing, Lance, as is love. Neither should be wasted because of something as naive as fear of a culture you have left behind. Perhaps on Earth you would be expected to hide these...deviations, but you should ask yourself: what is really holding you back out here?”

The stinging in his eyes wouldn’t go away. Lance swiped at his cheeks and bit the inside of his cheek when his fingers came back wet. The arm around his shoulders tightened and then let him go, and Coran was standing up, his obligatory _interrogate Lance for answers_ mission a clear success.

“I won’t say anything until you’re ready,” the Altean promised gently. “This is clearly something you will have to handle at your own pace, and I’ve no intention of pressuring you into making a decision. But Lance…”

At the tone of Coran’s voice, Lance looked up again, lip trembling. Those twinkling eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile, and a hand rumpled Lance’s hair briefly.

“There is not a person on this ship that does not love or accept you, and that will not change for something like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have suckmyhd on tumblr to thank for Coran's words of wisdom. I embellished a little, but they were they genius behind him. Please leave a comment and come say hi to either (both) of us on tumblr!


	2. Chapter 2

Keith and Lance had spoken exactly once while attending the Garrison, and it hadn’t gone particularly well. It wasn’t something that Keith had dwelled upon, really, which was why he hadn’t initially recognized Lance when they met again over a year later. Between being indifferent to other students harassing him—out of jealousy or spite or whatever else it was that day—and being thoroughly preoccupied with breaking Shiro out of a confidential Garrison site, Keith thought it reasonable that he hadn’t instantly known who Lance was. However, after they were all lightyears from earth and tucked in the relative safety of an alien spaceship, Keith did think back on that one encounter, and he did it with some small flicker of embarrassment.

He’d been working out in the training room during dinner. Mealtimes were the only times the place was empty, or close to it, and he preferred to be left alone—something that rarely happened for him. Being top of his class and having what the majority of the Garrison referred to politely as “attitude problems” and less politely as “a massive superiority complex and a stick up his ass” led to a lot more interactions than Keith was comfortable with. It wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ what people thought about him, know what they said when they thought he couldn’t hear, and he knew why they thought that. Really, he did get it. He just...wasn’t good with people. By nature he was always a little too blunt for most people’s tastes. If he was good at something, he didn’t waste the breath or energy pretending to be modest, even though he didn’t flaunt either. If people challenged him, he was equally honest about what he thought of their abilities, and that usually equated to pointing out that they had a lot of work to do before they beat his scores.

But it wasn’t like it was something he could just _turn off_. If he was quiet, he came across as someone who thought he was too good for everyone else. He couldn’t win, so he gave up on trying and just avoided people as much as he could. It was the easiest, simplest way to not have to worry about doing or saying the wrong thing, misunderstanding someone’s intentions as well-meaning when they weren’t or vice versa. His schedule was carefully built for that; beat the mealtime rush to the cafeteria, take his food to his room for later, hit the training room while everyone else was eating.

So, when someone peeked into the training room while he was doing chin-ups, he was more than a little surprised and immediately on edge. The boy seemed to be looking for someone, dark blue eyes flicking through the room until they found Keith still hanging onto the bar, and then they narrowed. A sigh nearly escaped Keith at the look that settled onto the stranger’s features—it wasn’t unfamiliar.

“You’re Keith, right?” the boy said without preamble.

 _Well, at least he doesn’t waste time_ , Keith thought dryly.

He was close enough to the end of this rep that he didn’t feel guilty about dropping back to the floor, landing with a muted _thump_ on the balls of his feet. The boy watched as he stretched his arms up over his head.

“Yeah,” Keith answered, dragging the bottom of his shirt up to wipe at the sweat collecting on his brow. “Who’re you?”

The boy hadn’t answered right away and Keith dropped his shirt to frown at him. He was still half-glaring at Keith, and his gaze seemed somehow more focused on his face than it had been a moment ago. A prickle of discomfort danced along the back of Keith’s neck and he felt suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was incredibly sweaty and his hair was a damp, tangled mess. It was sticking to the back of his neck, and he found himself cursing himself for forgetting a hair tie.

“Well?” Keith prompted, reaching back up to push his bangs back from his forehead.

The boy startled.

“Uh, Lance,” he said, stepping farther into the room.

Keith raised an eyebrow and gave Lance a quick once-over. They were about the same height, but under scrutiny Lance’s spine stiffened and Keith noted that the stranger probably had a couple inches on him. His shoulders were broad, but he had the look of a guy that hadn’t quite grown into himself yet; not gangly, exactly, but wiry. He’d probably been a swimmer in high school and then gotten a growth spurt.

“What d’you want with me?” Keith asked, subconsciously pushing his own shoulders back a little.

Lance pressed his lips into a thin line, then shrugged and his face took on an overly aloof expression that Keith couldn’t pin as genuine or forced.

“Just wanted what the big deal was,” he sniffed.

Lance gave Keith his own thorough scan that made him realize he was leaning more of his weight on his left foot than his right. He moved to even out his stance, then swore inwardly when the other cadet’s lips twitched. He’d caught his awkward half-shuffle.

“You don’t seem all that special to me,” Lance said, tilting his nose in the air.

Keith frowned at him. He may not have been the best at reading people in social settings, but at this point he felt pretty confident that this guy wasn’t actually here to mock him. He lacked the...well, _mean_ air that the others had borne.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” was all Keith said.

Most of the room stood between them. He didn’t like just standing there with all that empty space, nothing to do with his hands. Keith’s eyes flicked toward the weights and he wondered if Lance would get on his case if he continued to work out while he was still there—for some reason as of yet still unclear. Before he had a chance to ask aloud, however, Lance broke the tense silence.

“I just wanted to tell you that you better be ready for competition,” the boy blurted.

This caught Keith’s attention and he looked back around. Lance’s cheeks looked darker than they had a moment ago and his hands were curled into fists against his hips, but his gaze was firmly fixed on Keith.

“You’re a pilot?” Keith asked, surprised. “I don’t remember seeing you in class.”

It was an innocent enough comment, Keith had thought. Truth be told, he still wouldn’t have known most of the people from his class if they approached him, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. But the way Lance’s face colored at his words made Keith wish he could’ve swallowed them.

“I’m not,” the boy mumbled, and finally his eyes flicked away. “I’m just a cargo pilot right now.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m gonna be a fighter pilot!”

He said it with such conviction that Keith actually paused. A small smirk twitched at the corners of his lips as he looked the boy over again.

It wasn’t as if anybody could be a fighter pilot. It was a small and specialized class; plenty of good and even great pilots didn’t make it in, so being a cargo pilot in and of itself was absolutely no reason to dismiss this kid as another far-off dreamer. If he was serious enough about it to track Keith down when he made a point of being impossible to find, Keith figured that he probably had a bite to back up his bark.

The prospect of a challenge lit a spark of excitement inside Keith.

“Okay,” he said, and his smile grew slightly. “Good luck.”

Apparently, it had been the wrong thing to say.

Lance had blown up like a puffer fish at that, indignation making his tone sharp and his gaze cold.

“What, you don’t think I can?” he blustered. Keith blinked and his smile dropped. “Just because _you’ve_ got it made at the top of the class doesn’t mean I don’t have a chance!”

“What the hell?” Keith demanded, crossing his arms over his chest at the fire blazing in the other’s eyes now. “I didn’t say that!”

“ _Good luck_ ,” Lance mimicked, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “You implied it, asshole.”

“I didn’t—that’s not—” Keith spluttered, face heating up.

“Yeah, whatever,” Lance snapped. “You can kiss that top spot goodbye, I’ll be taking it any time.”

He stalked out of the room before Keith had a chance to defend himself.

For the days that followed, the incident did linger in the back of his mind, gnawing at his conscience. However, Lance never showed up again, and apparently their schedules were different enough that they never ran into each other, so Keith relaxed and let it go. He needed to focus on his work. He needed to focus on the few decent friendships he’d built.

 

Pidge was the one that found Keith in Red’s hangar after the scene in the command center. While Red had taken a couple of hits during their latest scuffle with a Galra fleet, he’d mostly just used it as an excuse to get away from Lance. She hadn’t taken any serious damage, and over time the lions were actually able to repair themselves, something that had fascinated Pidge and Hunk and relieved Keith, who wasn’t sure he had been ready to try his hand at working on alien tech. As such, he was actually just sitting on the hangar floor, leaning back against one of her massive paws and letting her presence wrap around him, soothing him in a way only she could.

“Sup Grumpy?” Pidge hollered as they entered.

A slight spike in Red’s aura made Keith chuckle. He reached out, patting her and reassuring her that Pidge didn’t mean anything by it, and Red reluctantly settled down. She was surprisingly protective when Keith considered that he’d had to get sucked out of an airlock before she was willing to let him in.

“I’m not grumpy,” Keith argued, looking over at the doorway.

Pidge rolled their eyes as they strolled over, hands deep in the pockets of their shorts, and plopped down next to him.

“I take it Red’s repairs are going fine?” Pidge teased.

“Yep. I’m just good like that,” Keith deadpanned.

“Oh sure, Mr. _How-does-the-goo-dispenser-work_.”

“That was one time!” Keith protested.

“And?” Pidge said. “It’s literally a handle, Keith. The ice cream machine at the Garrison was more complicated!”

“Whatever.”

Red hummed in obvious amusement at the pout that Keith settled into. There was no warning before her paw shifted ever so slightly back, causing Pidge and Keith both to flail for a moment as they lost the pressure against their backs.

“Your lion’s a dick sometimes,” Pidge noted, but they were smirking.

Keith rolled his eyes and grinned up at the underside of Red’s head. He shrugged and forwent a response, settling back against Red without a care. Pidge, a little more wary, opted to scoot around so that they were facing Keith and very obviously _not_ leaning against his lion.

“So…” they said after a moment of silence.

Keith groaned and threw his head back; he knew that tone.

“Let it _go_ , Pidge,” he tried, but he already knew it would be pointless.

“You need to talk to him,” they insisted. “Like, actually talk. Not get wrapped up in more of these stupid competitions.”

“Why don’t you try it?” Keith snapped, his good mood draining away all at once. “ _You_ try talking to someone that hates your guts after _one_ conversation that didn’t even last five minutes.”

“Keith,” Pidge sighed. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he snorted.

“Cut the guy a little slack,” Pidge said.

Keith threw them an incredulous look and they hastily lifted their hands in front of them, a placating look on their face.

“I’m not, like, gonna say he’s not being a jerk,” they promised. “I’m not making any excuses for him. But...well, it’s probably not my place to tell you all about his life, but he had a pretty rough time at the Garrison, especially after you were expelled. Iverson...well, you knew him, I’m sure.”

Keith huffed. Yeah, he knew Iverson. The professor was a dick and ultimately the superior he’d pissed off for the last time.

“Iverson wasn’t easy on Lance. I didn’t know who you were then, but the guy always made a production out of telling Lance that he only made it as a fighter pilot because you washed out.”

At that, Keith bristled. Of all people, Iverson should know how hard it was to make it as a fighter pilot. Even barring sims, which they weren’t technically allowed to do until they were officially admitted to the program—a rule that hadn’t stopped Keith—h gh test scores and extensive psych evals were required to make even the first stage. There were excellent pilots that ended up being just a little Less Goodtm than someone and ended up not getting in, and while Keith was quite confident that he was still the better of the two of them, Lance was by no means a _bad_ pilot.

“What the—” Keith said, but Pidge held up a hand to silence him.

“He has a lot of issues because of that,” they continued. “And he kind of just...well, it’s easier to blame a guy that’s not around than it is to hate the instructor you have to impress.”

“But that wasn’t my fault!” he exclaimed. “Iverson was a massive jerk and I get Lance being mad, but I never—”

“I know that,” Pidge interrupted again. “And he does, too. I don’t know why he’s as bad as he is with you, but that’s just part of it.”

“So what?” Keith wondered. “Just because our old professor was an ass, I should just—what? Bend over? Kneel and kiss his feet?”

“I’m not telling you to just let Lance have at it,” Pidge said, lips twitching. “Although I’d like to see what he’d do if you did that.”

Keith glared and their amusement faded.

“I’m just saying that you two should talk, and _maybe_ you could take it a little easy on him,” Pidge said. “There’s a lot going on in his head, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”

“Girls, be better than me, more girls,” Keith listed. Pidge chuckled.

“Well, obviously not _all_ of it is super deep or tragic,” they acknowledged. “Just try, alright?”

Keith wanted to argue. He wanted to say that it shouldn’t be his responsibility to accommodate Lance’s weird competitive streak or his traumatic teacher experiences. But he also knew that Pidge had a point. He remembered being lost and hurt and angry, needing something, some _one_ , to blame for it, and latching onto the Garrison as the guilty party. Reason told him that it wasn’t their fault, that whatever they were saying about the Kerberos mission, about _Shiro_ , they hadn’t been the cause of the failure. The disappearance. The death. Reason told him that they were dealing with an accident, trying to clean up something they knew nothing about while trying to maintain their image. But reason was a tiny voice in the back of his head, easily silenced by his anger.

“Keith?”

The red paladin closed his eyes and sighed heavily before answering.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, alright.”

“Thanks, man.”

The two of them were just moving to climb back to their feet when Allura’s voice boomed out over the intercom.

“Paladins, suit up and head to the bridge!” she commanded.

Keith and Pidge shared a look, then were off. Pidge’s room was closer and they left Keith to sprint down the hall alone. The fact that Allura wasn’t continuing to pester them was all the confirmation they needed that the situation wasn’t dire, but that didn’t stop Keith from hurrying as he changed. He snatched his helmet off of his bed once he’d donned his armor and was out the door again within minutes, only to narrowly avoid running into none other than the blue paladin himself.

“Watch it, Mullet!” Lance snapped.

Keith just barely bit back his retort, Pidge’s words echoing in the back of his mind, and just fell into step at Lance’s side. The other seemed confused by his lack of response, and in spite of himself Keith felt a little sliver of satisfaction at the crease between Lance’s eyebrows when he looked over at him.

Abruptly Keith remembered that they were supposed to be somewhere and he returned his attention to hurrying to the bridge, picking up his pace a little. He didn’t really think anything of it until a little noise left Lance and the other boy pulled slightly ahead of him. A spark of irritation jumped in Keith’s chest, but he chose to smother it with amusement because really, it was actually a little impressive that they managed to turn everything into a competition. Never one to leave the gauntlet alone, Keith sped up until he was ahead, and it became a race to be the first to Command, the two of them sprinting headlong down corridors and barely making it around corners until they arrived, panting and sweating profusely already, to find that they were the last people there.

“Nice of you to join us,” Allura said pointedly.

They both cast their gazes to the floor, faces still flushed from exertion and chests still heaving.

“Now that everybody is here,” the princess continued. “Coran has picked up a distress signal from a nearby planet.”

“Sweet!” Lance exclaimed.

“Dude, should you really be happy about a _distress beacon_?” Hunk wondered.

Lance blinked, then shrugged.

“I mean, they got the signal out, right?” he said. “So whoever it is, they managed that much, and I’m all about helping people in need.”

“Yeah, as long as they throw parties for you after,” Pidge said in a carrying whisper.

“Hey, I’m not gonna turn _down_ offers like that, it’d be rude,” Lance said airily.

“Princess,” Shiro said, an edge of exasperation in his voice. “Do we know anything about the planet or the people that sent the signal?”

Allura shook her head.

“Unfortunately, all we know is that this planet has been colonized by the Galra,” she said. “We do not know how extensively, or who might have evaded them for so long there. All we have is the beacon.”

“Well, let’s go before the Galra find them, then!” Lance said, straightening up. The humor faded from his voice. “If we caught their beacon, then the Galra could probably sense it too, right?”

“That is possible,” Coran acknowledged. “Time is of the essence, but—”

“But what if it’s a trap?”

Everyone looked at Keith, but his gaze was fixed on Allura. Judging from the press of her lips and the crease in her brow, this possibility hadn’t escaped her.

“It could just as easily be the Galra trying to lure us out,” he said. “We don’t know anything except that the signal is _there_ , we have no idea who sent it, and apparently we have no means of finding out short of going down there.”

“So we go down there,” Lance said, and there was that mulish expression that Keith hadn’t missed one bit. “If it’s a trap, we bust out. It’s not like we’re defenseless.”

“Unless a pretty alien girl is involved,” Keith returned, eyebrow raised. Lance flushed darkly and looked away. Keith crossed his arms. “All I’m saying is that we should be careful. Blindly answering distress signals hasn’t worked out for us so far.”

“Yeah, all two times we’ve done it?” Lance retorted. Keith threw him a withering look that he ignored. “Someone out there needs help. It’s our job to answer them!”

“I’m not saying we ignore them,” Keith snapped, eyes sparking like violet fire. “I’m just saying we should be smarter about—”

“You’re just scared that I’ll show you up again,” Lance interrupted, puffing out his chest.

“Lance, don’t be—” Shiro started.

“When have you ever shown me up?” Keith demanded. “Believe me, that’s the last thing I’d ever worry about.”

“Oh sure,” scoffed Lance. “Wait til the rest of the universe finds out the red paladin is a giant scaredy-cat top-of-the class drop-out who won’t even do his duty as a pal—”

“Would you shut up already?” Keith all but snarled. “Fine, whatever, we’ll do it your way. Don’t complain if we end up getting blasted out of the sky by the enemy!”

“If you’re the one that gets blasted, I’ll weep tears of joy,” Lance muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! I love hearing from all of you.


	3. Chapter 3

Needless to say, Lance hadn’t really gotten the chance to work through his conversation with Coran.

Now, he was just trying to ignore the unspoken  _ I-told-you-so _ , but it hung in the air all the same. It was just supposed to be a simple rescue mission. For whatever reason, it hadn’t occurred to them to actually  _ prepare  _ for a situation in which someone who knew of Voltron would send a phony call for help to lure them into an ambush. 

Well, it hadn’t occurred to  _ most _ of them. 

As he ducked under a rocky overhang to get his bearings, Lance watched for the others. Pidge was using their cloaking device, so he couldn’t tell where they were, but he found Hunk in time to watch the guy bulldoze a fleet of foot soldiers. Shiro covered him from the air, blasting a few small airships in a matter of ticks. The Red Lion was nowhere to be seen.

“Where the heck is Keith?” Lance demanded into his headset. “I could use a little help over here!”

“I--little--blasters!” came a garbled response. Lance winced at the static that filled his ears.

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice came through. “Keith, what’s going on? Something’s up with your com!”

“Tell--s--thing I--n’t kno--”

“Guys,” said Pidge. The Green Lion flickered into Lance’s view hovering near a deep canyon. “I can find the Red Lion on radar. He’s not too far away.”

“Keith, do you need help?” Shiro asked, enunciating every syllable as if it was  _ his _ com that was on the fritz. They received another piece of angry static, entirely unintelligible as words.

“Oh come on, he’s fine,” Lance scoffed. “Let’s just finish these guys off and we can meet him back at the castle ship.”

“Lance,” Shiro warned. 

_ What? _ he wanted to pout. If any of them would be fine on their own, it would’ve been Keith. He tried not to think too hard about the praise.

“How’re you holding up, Keith?” asked Hunk, slamming another airship into the ground.

“A lit--elp--be ni--” said the red paladin.

“Keith, try to speak clearer,” said Shiro. “We can’t hear you.”

“I  _ said-- _ elp--nice,” Keith tried again, his impatience evident even in the small snippets of his voice that they could hear. “--not--is ba--”

“Where are you?” Hunk asked. 

A ship hit the Yellow Lion and sent it rolling across the tundra, subjecting them all to a fair amount of rattling and groaning that drowned out anything Keith might have said.

“If we sit here trying to translate Keith’s coms any longer we’re all gonna get blown to dust,” Lance said, leaping out to cover Hunk’s hasty retreat with a blast of his trusty ice beam. The enemy froze over and careened into a cliff, where it went up in a lovely explosion of smoke and shrapnel.

“We’ve gotta help him if he needs it,” Hunk said.

“We’re almost done. We can help him after,” Lance said. “He’ll be fine!”

“--ance, I--ill y--”

“Lance, go help Keith,” Shiro commanded. “We’ll catch up.”

“Huh?!” Lance blurted.

“Don’t argue, go!”

As much as he wanted to protest, Shiro was right. Plus, without Keith-- _ Red _ \--they didn’t stand half the chance they normally might’ve. At least this way Lance would get a chance to swoop in and save the day, maybe show off a little--hell, who knew? Maybe he could get Keith to swoon.

He wanted to slap himself in the face the moment the thought formed. He was a disaster.

“Pidge, think you can send me Keith’s location?” he sighed.

“Already on it,” they answered.

A moment later, a new set of coordinates appeared on Lance’s screens. It looked like Keith was pinned against a cliff face maybe a mile out; his signature was weak. Not too far, but away from most of the fighting.

“Get going!” Shiro ordered.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Lance said, and took off.

“Be--areful,” Keith warned. “--ere’s--mbush, I kne--”

“Your static is giving me a headache,” Lance complained. “Just sit tight while I come to the rescue.”

“--diot, liste--”

Keith cut out entirely, and Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Guilt muddled his peace and quiet, though, and he knew it was that damn talk with Coran. Maybe he really was overthinking the whole situation. Already he knew he was being unfair to Keith, but...maybe it really wasn’t the big deal that he was making it into? Yet accepting that would mean apologizing, and Lance wasn’t sure if he was ready to do that. Maybe if he just...just started with being a little nicer? That’d be something, right?

Keith’s expression from when they’d collided in the hallway flitted across his mind. He hadn’t risen to Lance’s less than polite greeting and he’d had an almost pensive look on his face. Not that that was unusual--he always looked like he was brooding--but this time was different in that it was directed at Lance, and it had given him the uncomfortable notion of being x-rayed.

“Lance, you’re almost there!” Pidge said.

Lance stiffened and shook his head. A frown creased his brow, though, because although he was almost on top of Keith’s coordinates he couldn’t see the Red Lion anywhere. A trick? Had Pidge installed Red with the same cloaking ability their lion had, and if so why the Quiznak hadn’t they done it for Blue?

“Pidge, I think your coordinates are messed up,” Lance said, looking all around. “I’m right here, but I don’t see anyth--”

“Idiot, there’s a cliff!” Pidge snapped. 

A little too late Lance noticed the sudden drop-off he was sprinting for. He barely had time to let out an undignified squeal that everyone heard but he would deny to his grave, then he tumbled over the edge. Fortunately the lions were airships, so he could right himself easily enough, but he didn’t have a chance to slow his downward momentum. All he could do was aim his fall toward the unfriendly ship facing a battered Red Lion and brace himself for impact.

Lance landed on the ship aiming at Keith just in time. The blow knocked their canon off-course and its attack shot harmlessly into the sky. The landing jarred his bones and rattled his teeth, but nothing worse came of it. The ship crumpled beneath the Blue Lion. Lance leapt off and froze it over for good measure before turning toward his comrade, preening in the pilot’s chair even though Keith couldn’t see him. Only one of the red lion’s eyes was lit up and it stood on three legs; the fourth trailed at an awkward angle on the ground.

“Bet you’re glad to have an ace pilot like me guarding your back,” Lance said, throwing his shoulders back.

“--ome ace--” Keith crackled. “--ouldn’t ev--av  _ come _ \--inish th--ob.”

“Oh, not this,” Lance groaned, looking away from Red as heat prickled his cheeks. “Look, we can argue about who’s right and wrong--I’m right, by the way--once we’re out of here, but now’s not the time.”

“L--nce to--or right!”

Lance blinked.

“Did you…” he said cautiously. “Did you just say I was right?”

“No!” That word came through loud and clear. “Thi--bad, loo--atch out!”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” Lance yelled, wishing he could stuff his fingers in his ears.

“--nce, b--ind y--”

“Nope, I’m not listening to your know-it-all speech!” Lance interrupted. “Should we have been more careful? Sure, maybe, but it’s not like you  _ knew _ it was a tra--”

“ _ LANCE _ !”

The ferocity in Keith’s voice struck Lance dumb and his hands fell away from his head. He looked around at his screens just in time to see the stealth ship taking aim in the ruins of the larger one he’d shot down. He didn’t have time to react. His lion needed time to recharge; it had taken on too much damage, and his reflexes might be good but they weren’t  _ that _ good. All Lance could do was raise his arms in front of his face--as if that would actually protect him--and brace himself. He wanted to shut his eyes, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the brilliant green beam that was almost on him. 

Everything went dark. Something slammed into Lance from the wrong direction, sending him tumbling paws-over-tail, and for a moment the power blinked out. He didn’t know why, only that the emergency lights were the only things keeping him from utter blindness. Energy crackled across the control panel and the rest of the interior like a circuit had shorted out. He wondered if it was just the shock from the weapon, the brief moment of calm before he was blasted apart. He felt his lion climb back to its feet, though. Then his screens flickered and came back online, and he had to choke down a scream.

The enemy ship was destroyed. It lay as nothing more than a smoldering wreckage amongst a trashyard of other fallen ships. But the Red Lion was collapsed in the spot where he had been sitting. Wind wafted away the smoke rising from the smoldering wreckage, and a few clumps of dry, scraggly grass too near the overheated ship caught fire. 

With a trembling hand Lance reached out and opened a private com line. The screen flickered, briefly showing a look at the inside of Red’s destroyed cockpit before it died. No noise filtered through. A soft purr resonated through Lance’s lion, but Blue’s attempts to reassure him fell on deaf ears.

Lance sat frozen in his seat.

Horror kept his gaze glued to the scene before him, different than the fear that had prevented him from looking away from the blast he knew was about to kill him but no less real. Keith...had shoved him out of the way. It wasn’t hard even for him to understand, logically, what had happened. However, on a mental and emotional level, the pieces that seemed to fit together made absolutely no sense. The sight before him couldn’t be...it couldn’t be real.

“Keith?” he croaked. 

Somewhere nearby, the others were still fighting, but Lance couldn’t even think of leaving the fallen lion to help them. Blue rumbled again and Lance felt his safety harness unfasten; the pilot seat tilted up and forward, forcing him onto his feet. He staggered upright in a daze, a complaint on the tip of his tongue before he realized that Blue had opened the exit hatch and her intent was made clear. Whether by her suggested will or Lance’s own sudden desperation, the blue paladin scrambled to leave the ship, sweating and on the verge of screaming in sheer frustration when his toe caught the lip of the exit ramp and stumbled him.

The heat radiating from Red was unimaginable even from this distance, and as Lance dashed across the scarred stretch of land between them it only escalated. Sweat beaded on his brow and he felt like he was roasting in his flight suit. He didn’t want to get closer. The blaze twisted his stomach and the smell of blasted metal and alien fuel caught in his lungs and denied him the filtered air his helmet tried to offer, but he couldn’t stop.

“Keith!” he shouted, wincing at the break in his voice. “Keith, knock it off, joke’s over!”

The com remained silent.

He skidded to a halt in the sweltering wreckage and nearly slammed into Red’s muzzle with his unchecked momentum. Red didn’t respond in the slightest, even to growl at him like she normally did when he got a little too close or he harassed her paladin one too many times. He smacked his hands against the metal, paying no mind to the way his skin screamed in protest even through the suit’s climate-controlling material.

“Open up!” he screamed, pounding on the closed hatch. “Come on, be a good kitty and let me in!”

Red didn’t respond. Lance shouted in wordless frustration and slammed his helmet against the lion, letting his hands rest there and ignoring the way the skin cracked and blistered. Tears burned his eyes and his chest convulsed around his breaths, and he wanted to blame the physical pain and he wanted to blame the smoke but he knew it wasn’t either. A sour taste rose on the back of his tongue and he couldn’t force it back down but neither could he let it surface, so it curdled into a disgusting lump in his throat.

“Red, c’mon,” he croaked. “Please.”

There was the faintest flicker at the edge of his mind, a spark that jumped briefly to life. It felt like sunlight against his skin and a breath of hot desert wind in his face, and his heart leapt at the feeling because though it was rare, he would recognize Red’s consciousness anywhere. He stepped back and allowed his throbbing hands to fall away from her muzzle, looking up desperately. After a moment, a disjointed hum reverberated through the thrashed ship and echoed in his mind, and the lion opened up.

“ _ Thank _ you!” Lance cried. Red didn’t answer.

Lance barreled inside, new hope unfurling in his chest.

The blistering heat that met Lance upon crossing the threshold stumbled him, ten times more intense than it had been outside, and his stomach rolled again. The lights inside were out save for occasional flames or sparking, damaged panels, but it wasn’t so dark that Lance couldn’t stumble his way through the wreckage toward the cockpit.

“Keith?” he called. “Keith, you in here?”

Still he received no answer. That brief flare of hope threatened to suffocate in this confined space and in some distant corner of his mind Lance found himself wondering what kind of chemicals he was being exposed to. He shoved the thought farther away and continued his scramble through the short corridor.

Whatever he had expected to find in the cockpit when he burst out, it wasn’t what he saw. He’d caught a glimpse of the destruction before the communication line failed and he thought he’d been prepared. Once again, he’d been wrong. An entire wall had caved in, shrinking the room by half and blowing smoking, charred debris in every direction. The pilot chair was scattered across what was left of the floor in pieces so damaged that the back was indistinguishable from an arm or the seat. The screens were cracked, the controls demolished, and everything was spewing acrid black smoke.

Crumpled on the floor against the less-damaged wall was a conspicuously small, unmoving figure. With a strangled cry Lance flung himself toward Keith, heedless of the rubble, and the floor met his knees with a painful  _ smack _ that he barely noticed because his ears were ringing and he couldn’t tell if his heart had stopped beating or picked up in triple time. With one hand he reached out, hesitated, then grasped the shoulder of the injured paladin, noticing as he did that his armor had been blasted to bits as well. He couldn’t hold his breath when he rolled Keith gingerly onto his back because he wasn’t breathing, but he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him even so.

The entire right side of Keith’s face was badly burned, blood oozing from some spots while others were grossly red and shiny. Blood crusted the corners of his eye and collected at the corner of his mouth. His nose was bent at a strange angle, and where the skin wasn’t burned, nasty purple splotches blossomed over it. It would have been clear to a child that Keith’s arm was badly broken in several spots. His shoulder seemed dislocated as well. His uniform attempted to keep the rest of him covered, but it was singed and torn in several places, and there was more red in it than there had been that morning. Bit of shrapnel had pierced both the suit and deeper, sticking out like a macabre version of modern art.

“Keith…?” Lance choked. 

Keith didn’t react; didn’t even twitch when Lance awkwardly tried to pull Keith’s head and shoulders onto his thighs and off of the wrecked floor.

His hair was singed, hanging in his face like it always did, but unlike always there was no movement to it. No slight displacement caused from Keith’s breath. No shiver when Keith turned his head. He was as still as the grave.

“Lance?” Shiro’s voice came through the coms, causing him to jump. “Lance, what’s going on?”

Lance opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t say that Keith was down, that Keith wasn’t talking to him, that it was his fault. He could feel it in the vague way he felt all the others through the bond; the spark of fire at the farthest edges of his consciousness. It was never the most readily available of the other awarenesses not his own, but now it was more distant than ever. Blue was still trying to calm him, and he thought that maybe she was trying to reach out to Red as well, but he didn’t know.

_ I fucked up, _ Lance thought brokenly.  _ No, no, no, this can’t be happening. _

The universe had a sick sense of humor. It really did.

“Lance!” Shiro shouted again. “Come in, Lance!”

“Sh-Shiro,” Lance whimpered, eyes fixed on the broken body in his lap. “Oh god, Shiro, I--it’s Keith, he’s…”

“Hang on, we’re on our way to you now,” Shiro barked.

That was it. Lance reached up and switched off the com on his helmet.

“Keith,” he said again, pushing hair carefully out of the other’s eyes. “Keith, come on. Look at me. Open your eyes.”

The burning in his eyes intensified. He touched his fingertips to Keith’s throat and the lump in his throat threatened to choke him entirely at the weak, unsteady pulse that met him. 

“No, no,” Lance muttered, curling in on himself “No, you can’t do this to me, you are  _ not _ \--Not before I--”

His voice caught in his throat and the moisture in his eyes finally overflowed. Tears streaked down his cheeks against his will, hung from his chin and then fell onto the body he cradled to his chest.

“Keith, come on,” he grit. “Wake up, please, open your eyes.”

A weak, rattling cough shook the red paladin and Lance jerked.

“Keith?” he squeaked.

Keith twitched and a harsh noise left him, maybe an attempt at a breath.

“Keith, are you awake?” Lance demanded, sliding a hand beneath Keith’s neck and brushing his thumb across Keith’s bloodied cheek. “Can you hear me?”

Another harsh noise. Keith twitched again. A shuddering, wracking cough shook his entire frame. Then his eyes fluttered, and one cracked open.

“La...nce?”

His voice was a barely audible breath, freezing Lance’s blood in his veins.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” Lance said, nodding frantically. “It’s your buddy Lance. Listen, Keith, okay? You gotta listen to me, you need to stay awake.”

Keith’s lips twitched weakly, then another cough stole the smirk away. Droplets of scarlet stained his lips and dribbled down his chin.

“You...okay…?”

Lance blinked, his brain processing Keith’s words slowly. When he understood what Keith was asking, a bubble of laughter rose in his chest, high and disbelieving.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lance demanded, fighting hysterics. “You--quiznak, God, okay. Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine and you’re an idiot but you’re gonna be fine too, you just--”

“Lance.”

His voice cracked to a halt. Keith’s eye had already closed again, but his head rolled to rest in the crook of Lance’s elbow, and his next words were burned into Lance’s skin by cracked and bloodied lips.

“Shut up.”

Lance did, staring down at Keith with tears in his eyes and terror in his heart. That stupid, weak curve of Keith’s lips was back, and even though Lance’s suit kept him from feeling Keith’s touch to the extent that he wished he could, he still felt the pressure when Keith shifted to hide his face.

“Wmsorry…” Keith mumbled.

It hit Lance like a blow to the chest. He wanted to yell at Keith, tell him to fuck off, tell him he was  _ not allowed  _ to apologize like this, not when Lance didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of holding a grudge, not when Lance was fighting to keep it together. He wanted to scream at how unfair it was, how stupid Keith was. More than anything, though, he just wanted Keith to stay. Stay awake, alive. Stay with him.

So why wouldn’t the words come? Of all times for Lance’s voice to desert him, why now?

He still hadn’t found it when Keith’s body fell limp in Lance’s arms.

Mechanically, Lance shifted his weight and moved his arms under Keith’s body. When he stood, he didn’t stumble, and he left the cockpit slowly and carefully, not allowing Keith to so much as brush against a single damaged circuit in their retreat. Red had left her hatch open and allowed him to carry her paladin down the ramp without any sort of reaction. When his feet hit the ground, Lance paused, clutching Keith closer to his chest, then took a shaky breath and stepped away from Red, looking up at her unlit eyes. He couldn’t feel her.

A hum in the back of his mind pulled him away with his fallen comrade. Blue purred loudly as she approached him, crouching so that her nose was inches from her paladin. He offered a weak attempt at a smile and leaned his forehead against her smooth surface, feeling the stark difference in temperature between her and Red and fighting the building nausea in his stomach.

“Lance, I see you,” Shiro said. “Where’s--”

Lance clenched his jaw, heart plummeting at the choked noise that left their leader as his eyes fell upon the right hand of Voltron. Identical noises of horror announced the arrivals of Pidge and Hunk.

“Keith!” Shiro shouted.

The black lion slammed into the ground not far from Lance and Blue, digging deep ruts in the soil from its forward momentum. Shiro was out of the lion before its eyes had flickered out, racing across the dry, cracked dirt. Pidge landed a moment later, Hunk right after them. They both scrambled out of their lions to join Shiro and it seemed almost like a race to see who would get to Keith first. 

There was nothing Lance could do but hold Keith out to Shiro, throat burning and eyes stinging. He looked away when Keith’s weight was taken from him and allowed himself to be jostled aside by Pidge and Hunk.

“Oh god,” said Shiro croaked.

“He’s not…” Hunk started, looking like he’d just had a particularly bad run in the simulator.

“No…”

Lance clenched his jaw at Shiro’s choked lament.

“We--we have to get him back to the ship. If we--if we’re fast enough maybe we can get him in a pod. Maybe we can heal him.”

Lance said nothing. Pidge and Hunk shared a shaky look. Shiro’s hands tightened on Keith’s body.

“I--I need to get Red back to the ship,” Shiro continued. “Pidge, your lion’s the quickest now, can you--can you take him back?”

“I can’t carry him,” Pidge said in a small voice. 

Their eyes were wide, face pale, and though they tried to maintain some semblance of control even Lance could see their fingers trembling. Hunk didn’t look much better. The yellow paladin shakily held out his arms toward his friend, but Shiro shook his head.

“Hunk, you and I need to take care of his lion,” Shiro said. “If Pidge can’t take him, Lance will need to.”

Lance jumped at the sound of his name.

“Come on, Lance,” Shiro said, turning toward him. “Open up, we’ve gotta move fast.”

Body on autopilot, Lance turned to Blue, who opened up to admit him and Shiro without prompting. Lance hurried on board first, trying not to look like he was running away. Their leader deposited Keith gingerly on the floor behind the pilot’s seat and, with a hard look and a warning to fly carefully, hurried back out. Still not quite aware of himself, Lance took off toward the castle ship, focusing all of his lion’s remaining power to stabilizers and thrusters. He needed to be quick. He needed to be careful. 

_ Idiot _ , Lance wanted to snap when he realized he was approaching the ship too quickly and slowed down too suddenly; Keith rolled against the back of his seat.

His nerves had never been as tense as when he landed his lion in its hangar, trying so hard to be gentle it was as if he was landing on thin ice. Once the lion’s feet were safely planted on the floor, Lance unbuckled and turned to pick his friend up, only to be stopped by a nonexistent blow to his gut.

He looked worse in direct light.

Lance took a deep breath and slid his arms beneath Keith’s unconscious body, grunting under its weight. Keith’s head rolled to rest against Lance’s shoulder as he tried to situate him more securely against his chest with one arm beneath his knees and the other around his shoulders. Lance’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t dare waste anymore time. 

He stumbled out of his lion and started for the command station, going as fast as he could while holding a body his size. It felt like hours before he reached Allura at the center, hours in which Keith seemed to grow colder in his arms, but at last he found his goal and staggered in, his side burning and his shoulders heaving. The princess took one look at the body in his arms and blanched. The shrill scream that split the air, however, came from Coran, who looked ready to faint.

“Lance!” Allura exclaimed, scrambling toward him. “What happened? Is Keith--”

“Fix him,” Lance croaked. “The pods--they can fix him, right? He’s just--he’s just hurt.”

Allura’s lip trembled as she lifted a hand to touch Keith’s lips. Lance already knew she would find no breathing, just like he knew she would find no pulse when she touched the side of his neck.

“No…” she murmured. “This can’t be…”

“Princess?” Coran said hesitantly.

Allura ignored him and looked up from the red paladin’s broken body. Eyes a most unnatural blue met Lance’s, and he was not prepared to see tears in them, not prepared at all for the sympathy gleaming there. Her hand, spotted with red where she had touched Keith, lifted to cradle Lance’s jaw, and in that tenderness Lance found his answer, and the world fell away beneath him. She didn’t speak as her thumb swiped across Lance’s cheek, and Coran stayed where he was several yards away, expression utterly shattered. Lance didn’t want to know what he looked like.

He couldn’t continue holding Keith; his arms were already starting to shake. Slowly he lowered himself to the ground, laying Keith carefully down with his head in Lance’s lap, and Allura helped. They knelt there for what felt like a very long time, Lance’s eyes strangely dry while Allura cried quietly, until the others arrived, breathless and frantic.

“Keith!” Shiro shouted. “Is he--”

Their gazes landed on where Lance and Allura sat, Keith lying between them. Lance couldn’t look at the others, so he kept his gaze on Keith’s lips, still turned slightly up, mocking him even now.

“No,” Shiro choked. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” Allura said, voice thick. “I am sorry. I should have been more cautious when investigating the distress signal. I should have known better than to send you all down there without performing any kind of recona--”

“Princess, what’re you saying?” Pidge said. “Why--why haven’t you put him in a pod already?”

“Pidge,” Hunk said softly, setting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. A hand that they promptly pushed off.

“No, don’t you get it?” they snapped. “Every second you waste is another second that he--we have to get him to a pod, we can’t--he’s not--”

“I’m sorry,” Allura said again. “He’s gone. The red paladin is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn you...  
> Sorry?  
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to get out. Straight-up I was having a mental/emotional breakdown, and since then I've been drowning in schoolwork and midterms.  
> I don't know that I'm happy with this chapter, to be perfectly honest, but I didn't want to make y'all wait any longer and I've let it be for so long that I doubt anything I did would make me super stoked about it again anyway...  
> SO.  
> The ending where everyone is (not) coping

Lance wretched at the smell of salt and iron. He could see nothing but sparking embers and thick, acrid black clouds that caught in his throat and poisoned his lungs. His ears were full of the sound of groaning metal and harsh, disgustingly wet noises and his  _ hands _ , oh God, something was very wrong with his hands. They were warm and wet, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe them on his pants he couldn’t get the feeling off. Something dried and crusted beneath his manicured nails.

Smoke choked Lance when he tried to shout. He tried to move and a weight atop his legs forced him down. Panic seized him; he squirmed and cried out, shoving at the phantom weight and finding nothing to push off of him, no way to relieve himself of the pressure. His eyes stung and his throat ached and he could do nothing. He was helpless. But he needed to do something. Someone needed his help. He didn’t know who it was or what he could do to help, but they needed him. That he knew with utmost certainty.

He had to  _ move _ .

Someone called his name.

He twisted; tried to find them. He had to find them.

“...ance!”

He had to  _ help them _ . They were in trouble. Why couldn’t he move?

“Lance!”

He knew that voice.

“Lance, come on, buddy!”

Lance’s eyes snapped open to dim blue lighting and he shot upright, shoulders heaving. Something was tangled around his legs and when he looked down, he saw that he was on a bed. Blankets twisted and trapped his limbs. He was covered in sweat. The cool air in the room again it made him shiver.

“You awake now, dude?”

Lance looked around. Hunk crouched at his bedside, deep creases between his brows and his lips turned down. He was still in his boxers and t-shirt, as if he’d just rolled out of bed and left like that; his hair was a mess, too, sticking up at odd angles and falling into his eyes. Lance wondered what  _ he _ looked like.

“Yeah,” Lance croaked, blinking when his voice scraped roughly against his throat. “What…”

“You were having a nightmare,” Hunk said. The young man settled more comfortably on the edge of Lance’s bed, hand still on his shoulder. “I could hear you yelling from two doors down.”

Pressing his lips together, Lance ducked his head. He didn’t remember making it back to his room to sleep, but he didn’t feel well-rested in the slightest. The space behind his eyes throbbed and his chest felt too tight.

“Are you…” Hunk started. His fingers tightened. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothin’ to talk about,” Lance mumbled. 

He linked his fingers together in his lap and chose to stare at the small gap between his palms. The distance wasn’t all that big. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve pressed them together with next to no effort.

“Lance, no one’s expecting you to be fine,” his friend pressed. He scooted closer, hand leaving his shoulder to wrap around him. Lance went without a fuss. “We’re all…”

Silently Lance dropped his head onto Hunk’s shoulder, teeth digging into the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from blurting something stupid. Something he’d regret later.

“Hunk, buddy,” Lance sighed. “I appreciate it, but I--I really  _ don’t _ want to talk about this. Not right now.”

“Lance,” Hunk protested. “Come on, I remember the Garrison, I  _ know _ you. I--”

“ _ Hunk _ ,” Lance interrupted. “Please.”

“Alright, alright,” Hunk conceded, but his arm stayed around Lance’s shoulders. “I just wanna make sure you know that I’m here for you, alright?”

“I know,” Lance sighed. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime dude,” Hunk said. “So, you want me to leave you alone? Or do you wanna hit the kitchen for some midnight food goo?”

It wasn’t difficult to weigh his options. Sleep, and risk more nightmares, or get some snacks with his best friend? Lance sighed and slipped out from beneath Hunk’s thick arm.

“Lemme get my slippers.”

* * *

Shiro had asked that Keith be placed in a cryotube until they could bury him properly.

“He deserves better than being jettisoned out into space,” he had said, and though his voice was firm his hands had trembled.

Allura had agreed, but only under the condition that the tube was locked, knowing that otherwise the others wouldn’t be able to keep themselves from hovering around it. From obsessing over it. The irony was that Lance still ended up in the pod room for the next several days, not trying to access the pod but sitting in front of its space all the same, staring at the access panel. Twice Shiro had sat beside him, and twice he’d fought against the apologies that had been burning in his throat without pause, knowing that Shiro would not accept his guilt and not wanting to be told it was alright. Not wanting to force more responsibility onto Shiro when the man was already not allowing himself to grieve in front of them.

Before Kerberos, Keith and Shiro had been close. The prodigy and the golden boy had been inseparable and Lance hadn’t known who to envy more. He’d admired them both, watched them both from afar and wondered when he would get there, vowed that he would. Now he stood beside that golden boy and he wished he hadn’t made that promise, because it felt like in getting there he’d sacrificed the prodigy. And Shiro was settling hands on their shoulders and offering his support, not asking for any and not  _ accepting  _ any. His right hand was gone, and no one else would fill that space.

Lance had left him alone in the pod bay some hours ago and retreated to his room. Alone, dry and aching eyes fixed on his ceiling while his fingernails bit into his palms and his lower lip bled where he chewed it. It was more than just him. More than just Keith. What would happen to the team now? What would happen to Voltron, to the universe, without the Red Lion? Without her pilot?

“Lance?”

Lance startled, attempting to leap to his feet but getting tangled in his bedclothes, and twisted to look at the door he hadn’t realized had opened. Coran stood in the frame, silhouetted by the light in the hall and hands clasped in front of him. A sigh of relief escaped Lance, only if because there was no pretense to keep with Coran the way there was with the others.

“Hey, Coran,” he said, wincing at the croak of his disused voice. “What’s up?”

“I thought you might be in here,” Coran said. He stepped inside as Lance struggled to sit upright and perched himself at the boy’s side.

“Did you need me for something?” Lance wondered.

Coran seemed to deliberate, mustache twitching and the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening. After a moment, the Altean dropped an arm around Lance’s shoulders. When he spoke, it was to the far wall.

“I thought we should talk,” he said softly.

Despite his best efforts, Lance sagged. There was no way Coran didn’t notice, but he didn’t say a word about it.

“I...I’m not...not really in a talking mood,” he said, which was truer than he could remember it being in a long while.

“I’d imagine not,” Coran said. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

A sigh escaped Lance and he shifted, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed so that he sat hip-to-hip with Coran. He leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees. Coran’s arm remained around his shoulders.

“I don’t know what to say,” he confessed. “It...it all sounds so stupid in my head. Selfish.”

“Lance, you are  _ not _ a selfish man,” Coran murmured. “Whatever your faults, that certainly isn’t one of them.”

Lance snorted.

“I did not come here to judge you,” Coran said. “Just to listen, and help you if I can.”

“Help me how?” Lance demanded, turning his face away from the Altean. “I’m  _ fine _ . Keith is--Keith is  _ gone _ , and I’m still--still--”

“Alive,” Coran finished. “It’s a difficult thing, being the survivor, isn’t it? People often underestimate the burden that comes with it.”

“It’s not just that, though,” Lance grit. 

His eyes, though he had been sure he’d run dry ages ago, were stinging anew, his vision starting to blur. He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, blinking furiously.

_ Pathetic.  _

“Then what is it?”

“He--he died  _ in my arms _ , Coran! He protected me and--and then he...” Lance rasped. “He was still alive when I found him, I--I should’ve been faster, I should’ve gotten him out. But I just  _ froze _ , and I couldn’t even say anything, I couldn’t tell him  _ anything _ !”

The tears had overflowed despite his struggles and streaked down his cheeks unchecked, big fat drops that hung from his chin and trickled down his throat. A sob threatened to break through his ribs but he shoved it down. He was sick of crying, sick of being this...this useless, emotional mess.

“I couldn’t even--oh my god, Coran--the last thing he said--I--” he said. “He was  _ bleeding out _ and I--when I grabbed him, when I tried to pick him up, he--Coran, he apologized to me. Why would he do that?  _ Why _ ?”

Lance whipped around to stare at Coran beseechingly and found the man fighting tears of his own. The Altean sniffed loudly and his arm tightened around Lance.

“He died thinking I hated him,” Lance whispered. “I let him  _ die _ , and I...I just…”

“Lance,” Coran said, and though his voice was quiet it was firm. “You did not  _ let _ Keith die. It was not your fault, and however Keith believed you thought of him, he made the decision to save you. It was his choice. You are not responsible for what happened.”

“But if I’d been paying attention--” Lance began, but Coran was already shaking his head.

“There is no use of pondering what-ifs,” he said firmly.

Lance looked away, biting his lip.

“So much time…” he croaked. 

“Hm?”

“I wasted so much time,” he said. “So much. And now…”

“Somehow, there never seems to be enough time,” Coran sighed. “In all the universe, nothing can keep up with the Red Lion or her paladin.”

“Huh?” Lance mumbled, dragging his hand across his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears.

Coran looked away from him and toward the closed door.

“The Red Lion has a knack for choosing paladins who live as quickly as they do brightly,” Coran murmured. “She prefers reckless heroes, it would seem.”

“The one before Keith was like that?” Lance mumbled.

“Every bit as stubborn,” Coran said, and there was a raw edge to his voice that Lance had never heard before. “King Alfor was a good man. He burned like the brightest star.”

“Allura’s  _ dad _ was the red paladin before?” Lance gawked.

Coran’s mustache twitched.

“Yes,” Coran said. “And he had the same gift for making you feel like you had far more time than you did.”

Silence bloomed from that statement. Lance leaned into Coran’s side and the Altean continued to stare into the distance, an ache in his eyes that Lance didn’t think he could begin to understand. He knew Alfor had sacrificed himself to save the princess and her caretaker, but he’d managed not to think too much into what that might have meant to them. To have survived at the expense of a beloved king. A father and a friend.

“Lance, I told you that life and love are precious things,” Coran murmured. “And I meant it. There is no shame in grieving their loss, but afterwards you must stand up and keep fighting.”

“I know,” Lance sniffed. “This war’s not gonna stop just because someone died.”

The corners of Coran’s eyes crinkled.

“No, it will not,” he conceded. “But it’s also for those we’ve lost. It’s no less than they would expect of us. We can’t let those feelings or their sacrifices be in vain.”

Pressing his lips together, Lance returned his gaze to his knotted fingers in silence. Coran was right, of course. For all Lance’s blustering and accusations, he knew that Keith had high expectations of all of them--himself included. He wasn’t sharp with people just to be an ass. It was because he gave his all at any given time and he expected them to do the same. If he was still around, he’d have already snapped at all of them for moping around instead of finding a new red paladin, instead of continuing their battle.

The ghost that stalked the halls wasn’t him. That ghost was something that chased the others alone to their rooms and barred them inside. That ghost hung over them in their fitful sleep and told them that maybe it would still be alive if they had been better. Faster. Stronger. Smarter. It urged them to isolate themselves and wallow.

Keith would have expected better.

“You’re right,” Lance sniffed.

Coran tightened his grip on Lance’s arm.

“Atta boy,” he encouraged. With a sudden sprightliness that belied the situation Coran bounced to his feet. “I’ll leave you alone now, but I think it would be good for you to join everyone for dinner later, alright?”

“Alright,” Lance said. He lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave. Coran gave him a mock salute and slunk from his room.

When the door shut, Lance slumped back on his bed.

He hadn’t been good to Keith. He had wasted so much time being angry and petty, and it was easy to say that he would just have to accept it and do better from now on, but in practice it would be harder. Nothing he did from there on out would make up for his mistakes. Any apology would be a lifetime too late.

Keep fighting for them. Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain. Far easier said than done.

_ If you’re the one that gets blasted, I’ll weep tears of joy _ .

Just the most recent on a list of things he would never have the chance to rectify. They weighed as heavily on his heart as the phantom weight of Keith’s limp body in his arms. Lance had washed his hands countless times since he had let Keith go for the last time, but they still felt dirty, with blood drying beneath his nails and sticking between his fingers. When he closed his eyes, he was back in a destroyed cockpit, choking on smoke and the smell of burned flesh.

Maybe Keith would have expected him to get over it. Move on. Keep fighting. But Keith had died thinking that the last face he saw would be of a man who hated him, a man who truly may have been able to meet those expectations. But Lance couldn’t. Not so easily.

* * *

When Lance was little, he’d almost drowned. He’d been playing with his family at the beach, harmless fun. He stayed close to shore at first like his mama told them, throwing a frisbee between his siblings and splashing them in the eyes to mess up their catches. But he’d wanted to go out farther. He loved the ocean, and even as a kid he thought he was a strong swimmer. How different was the ocean from the pool, really?

So, when his mama went to get the cooler because they’d forgotten it in the car, he started easing into deeper water. It wasn’t particularly long before he was up to his ears and his toes could only just brush the sand. It wasn’t as exciting as he’d thought it would be. The water was calm, gently rolling around him and making him sway like tall grass. His mistake was in turning around to look at the others. His older siblings were waving at him, shouting something that he couldn’t make out, and his younger siblings had gone off to play in the sand. He lifted his arm to wave back.

It only took a second for the wave at his back to crest over his head. He didn’t even have time to cry out before he was pulled under and out, and panic had closed around him like a vice. He kicked out, but he couldn’t tell which way was up and which way was down and he was being tossed to and fro like a shoe in a washing machine.

His older brother was the one that pulled him back, ears ringing as they broke the surface. The boy had towed him back to the sand, watched as he vomited a fountain of seawater, and knocked him around a bit for being an idiot. They didn’t tell their mother, and when they returned to the beach Lance didn’t venture past his allowed distance. He’d overcome his fear and learned to swim in the ocean since then, but he never forgot that feeling of helplessness.

It hadn’t come back to haunt him for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was fun, wasn't it?  
> I'm always a slut for comments


End file.
